


Before I Go

by MisMiz (Jaaaaack51)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Character Study, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-11-23
Updated: 1999-11-23
Packaged: 2018-04-26 07:06:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4994884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaaaaack51/pseuds/MisMiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ezra has something to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before I Go

He knew what the sharp, stinging pain in his side meant. Knew what the hot, wet feeling of blood trickling down his side meant. He was mortally wounded. Ezra had seen the gun turn in his direction. Had felt the bullet's impact. Had fallen helplessly to the ground as pain flooded through him. And then had watched as Buck and Nathan came running over while the others took care of the remaining outlaws.  
  
"Ez?" Buck knelt down on the ground and peered worriedly into the gambler'spain whitened face.  
  
Nathan Jackson began probing gently at the wounded man's side, attempting to assess the damage. Ezra let out a quickly stifled cry of pain. He hurt so bad he wished death would hurry up and claim him. His whole side felt like it was being scorched with red hot coals and the feeling was rapidly spreading to his gut. And his thoughts were becoming fuzzy and incoherent as the pain began to overwhelm him.  
  
"I can't tell how bad it is. Too much blood. I'm going to have to clean it first. Make sure he holds still, Buck." Nathan's terse command was promptly obeyed as Buck gently placed his hands on Ezra's shoulders, pinning them firmly to the ground.  
  
"How is he, Nathan?" Ezra peered up blearily through slitted green eyes at the sound of Chris Larabee's voice. Rather muzzily, he hoped that he was putting on a good show. Dying bravely like a true southern gentleman. He wouldn't want Chris and the others to be ashamed of him.  
  
"Don't know yet, Chris. Hold his legs while I clean the wound. It's gonna hurt like the devil, so he's likely to thrash around some and I don't want that." Nathan in his healer capacity was one of the few people that could give Chris Larabee orders and not wind up with a belly full of lead for their troubles.  
  
"I assure you, Mr. Jackson, that I can endure with fortitude anything..." Ezra never got a chance to complete his sentence, because at the first drop of carbolic acid in the wound, the gambler's eyes rolled back in his head, delayed shock caught up with him, and he passed out cold.

*************************************

He was still dying. Damn, but it was a slow process. Ezra opened his eyes. He felt very little pain now. In fact, he felt one step removed from his body. He supposed that was not unusual for someone who was near death. He glanced around the room. He was in the clinic. Vin Tanner was in the chair next to the bed and Nathan was across the room, pouring something into a bottle.

Ezra coughed weakly. His throat was parched. He should probably get used to the feeling, since he had no doubts whatsoever about where he was going once he'd shuffled off this mortal coil.  
  
Vin looked up at the small sound. "Nathan. He's awake." Vin smiled at the southerner. "About time."  
  
"No need to keep up the pretense, Mr. Tanner. I am fully aware of my condition and I am endeavoring to accept it with grace and dignity."  
  
Vin's mouth opened and closed several times before he finally was able to speak.  
  
"Huh?" Was what he finally said.  
  
"Ezra. You feeling any pain?" Nathan stood frowning down at him in concentration. He placed a cool hand on Ezra's forehead and the gambler sighed heavily. He was going to miss Mr. Jackson, as well as the others. Although admitting that was perhaps even more painful than dying.  
  
"Just the pain of knowing I shall have to leave with so much work left undone. So many poker games left unplayed." Ezra sighed again, feeling rather noble, if a trifle melancholy.  
  
"But Ezra, you aint..."  
  
"Please, Mr. Jackson." Ezra raised a trembling hand to stem the healer's protests. "I have certain things I would like to say to each of you. If you would be so kind as to summon the others?"  
  
"But Ez..."  
  
"Please, Vin. Accede to my request. Every moment may count and I do not wish to meet my maker without first making my peace here on Earth."  
  
Nathan and Vin exchanged glances, lips twitching. Ezra was rather touched that they apparently felt that much sorrow at his impending demise. He could get to like this dying thing. He felt remarkably peaceful. Even rather happy. As if he were floating on a cloud.  
  
"I'll go get them, Nathan. They'll wanna hear this." Vin made a choked sort of sound and quickly exited the clinic.  
  
Nathan, lips still twitching, began checking the bandages covering Ezra's side. The gambler could feel the pain, but it was a distant thing, unable to reach him.  
  
"Ezra? You had something you wanted to say?" Buck walked in through the door, followed closely by JD, Chris, Vin, and Josiah. Ezra was gratified to see that all of them wore suitably downcast expressions.  
  
"Yes, Mr. Wilmington. I wish to bid you all a fond farewell. And ask that you please inform Mother that I died in true southern fashion." The gambler paused for breath.  
  
"I also wished to inform Mr. Wilmington that I bear no ill will towards him for that little incident with the fair Miss Lily. And that likewise, I hold no resentment towards young Mr. Dunne for luring the richest mark ever to come through this godforsaken town away from the poker table to go fishing."

The gambler's voice had become a bit sharp and he took a deep breath.  
  
"That's real nice of ya, Ez." Buck's mustache quivered, as JD nodded his vigorous assent.  
  
"Mr. Jackson. I know we have had our differences, but in light of the current situation, I would like to let bygones be bygones. Perhaps you might take a small memento from my belongings to remember me by?" Nathan just nodded, eyes cast down and shoulders heaving. Ezra was pleasantly surprised at how well this was going. Somehow, he'd expected dying to be less...civilized. At least here in this town, amongst these men anyway.  
  
"Mr. Sanchez, I wished to thank you for many an interesting conversation. I shall be certain to give your regards to Our Lord and Savior should I be fortunate enough to meet him."

Ezra then turned his eyes towards Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner.  
  
"Gentlemen. You have both been an inspiration in your own unique fashions. I have definitely never encountered a wardrobe as...well, like Mr. Tanner's, let us just say. And Mr. Larabee's social skills. Ahem... Well, they have been quite useful to me on occasion. I hope you both will remember me fondly."  
  
"And now I have a few small bequests..."  
  
"Ezra?" Chris Larabee finally spoke, cutting the gambler off midword.  
  
"Yes, Mr. Larabee?" Ezra was a trifle annoyed that their illustrious leader had chosen to interrupt his final words. The words of a dying man. It was those aforementioned social skills of his.  
  
"You aint dying." The blunt words took a moment to sink in.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"You aint dying." Chris repeated patiently, a suspicious quiver in his voice.  
  
"I'm not dying." Ezra repeated the words slowly to himself. A hot flush of red began to work its way up his body, until it reached his face. He stared at the faces of his traitorous friends, all of whom were grinning openly now.  
  
Buck and JD were beginning to snicker.  
  
"You...but I...it felt...awwwww hell." Ezra closed his eyes, wishing fervently that he were, in fact, at death's door. The grave seemed vastly preferable to lying here listening to his so called friends obtain a good laugh at his expense.  
  
"Don't worry, Ez. We know it was just the laudanum talking. But I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say we were downright touched at your little farewell speech." Still laughing, Buck turned and headed for the door.  
  
"What do you say we head to the saloon and toast Ezra's miraculous recovery?" Josiah asked, his solemn tone at odds with his expansive grin and the twinkle in his eye.  
  
There was general agreement to this proposal and the six men began to file out the door of the clinic with Buck and Josiah in the lead and Nathan and Vin bringing up the rear. Nathan paused at the doorway, turning to give an appraising look at Ezra. "Get some rest. And you know, Ezra, a little bit of embarrassment never killed anyone." With that final admonishment, he hurried through the door, with Vin following closely behind.  
  
"What about a significant amount of it?" Ezra whispered wryly to himself.  
  
Almost as if he'd heard, Vin turned and tossed him a quick wink over his shoulder.  
  
Ezra merely groaned in reply. He hated these men. Really he did.  
  
The End  
  



End file.
